A Song of Dark Ice and Lit Fire
by StarkofSkyrim
Summary: Men may fight the game of thrones but the gods are just as invested in it. As Morena sees the house that is under her protection fall, she decides that she must involve herself in the lives of the Starks in order to protect them from the horrid future she has seen. She strives to save Ned from beheading, to stop the Red Wedding, and to unite the family before winter truly comes.
1. Chapter 1 - Bran

A Song of Dark Ice and Lit Fire

Men may fight the game of thrones but the gods are just as invested in it. As Morena sees a possible (and bloody) future for the house that is under her protection, she decides that she must involve herself in the lives of the Starks in order to protect them from the horrid future she has seen. She strives to save Ned from beheading, to stop the Red Wedding, and to unite the family before winter truly comes. Along the way, she must wage wars with other gods and pay prices that she never imagined in order to see the Starks get the ending they deserve.

*I do not own _A Song of Ice and Fire_ or George R.R. Martin's characters.

**Bran**

He was still in awe of the direwolf that was half-buried in the red snow. Its blind eyes stared at Bran as if it could see into his soul. The dead wolf's gaze should have disturbed him but he was too busy comparing the size of the wolf to the size of his own pony. It had to be bigger than his pony, but smaller than Robb's horse. He could hear Jon and Theon talking about the wolf and its origins. It wasn't just a wolf… it was a direwolf, like his father's sigil.

Looking to Robb, he noticed a small bundle of fur resting in his arms. Like the typical young boy, he released a delighted cry and inched towards his big brother. "Go on," his brother said. "You can touch him." Hesitantly, Bran extended his hand and gaze the pup a quick stroke.

"Here you go," Jon stated before putting a pup into Bran's own arms. He hugged the wolf pup and smiled softly as the wolf pup rubbed its face against his cheek. His father and men started talking about signs and what killed the monster, but Bran was too wrapped up in showering the little pup with quiet affection.

"Born with the dead," one of his father's men said in response to Jory's knowledge of direwolf birth. "Worse luck," the man added.

Then Hullen and Theon spoke of the pups' deaths. Theon drew his sword and the pup squirmed against him. "_NO!_" Bran cried out before adding, "It's mine."

His father seemed to agree with Hullen, Hullen's son, and Theon. Squeezing the pup closer, Bran felt tears burning his eyes. He couldn't cry here. Not in front of his father. But he couldn't bear the idea of the pup losing its head like the man from the Night's Watch.

"Lord Stark," his half-brother Jon said clearly. It was odd hearing Jon address their father so formerly. Why would he speak to him like that? "There are five pups. Three male, two female."

His father looked at him with questioning eyes. "What of it?"

"You have five trueborn children. Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your house. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord," Jon explained and Bran could've hugged him if it weren't for the sleepy pup in his arms. Even at his young age, Bran understood what Jon had done. The claim only worked before Jon had omitted himself. He was Ned's son as well, but a bastard. If there had been four males and two females, then each Stark child would have one, but that was not the case.

"You want no pup for yourself, Jon?" their father asked with a soft voice. If Bran understood what Jon had done, then their father would've understood as well.

"I am no Stark," Jon pointed out after commenting about the Stark's sigil.

Robb and Bran immediately jumped into the silence and claimed that they would take responsibility of their pups. They would nurse the pups if they needed to. Their father added additional responsibilities like training them. Bran would have agreed to anything if he could keep the sweet pup that just licked his face with its rough, warm tongue.

After remounting, Bran reveled in the victory. His pup had snuggled into his leathers, warm and safe. Now he just needed to come up with a name for the little wolf pup. They didn't go too far when Jon pulled up short and asked if anyone heard it. All Bran heard was the wind in the trees, hooves on the bridge, and his own whimpering pup. He watched as Jon turned his horse around and moved back towards the fallen direwolf. Bran saw Jon kneel down and remount. He noticed a smile on Jon's face as he rode back towards the group.

In Jon's arms was a snow-white pup with blood red eyes. "He must have crawled away from the others," Jon thought aloud.

"Or been driven away," their father responded, studying the pup in Jon's arms. The other pups were grey while Jon's was white. If it weren't for Arya similar looks, Bran would say that the wolf was like Jon among the Tully-influenced Stark children.

"An albino. This one will die even faster than the others," Theon claimed with an amused smile.

Jon's pointed look at Theon was as chilled as the air around them. Even if the albino wanted to, Jon would not let it die, that much was clear. Bran smiled as the group started to moved forward once more. Soon they would be in Winterfell and he couldn't wait to see Sansa and Arya's –

His thoughts were interrupted by a chilling breeze of cool air. Glancing back towards his pup's mother, he saw a woman in white. Her face was a pale white, almost as pale as the weirwood in Winterfell's godswood. She had a white cloak on with a hood covering most of her head, but Bran saw waves of brown hair spilling over her shoulders. Even though he was young, he knew that she was beautiful.

Without realizing it, he stopped his pony to watch her looking down at the mother wolf. When his father and brothers noticed that he stopped, they too stopped and looked in the direction he was looking in. Before his eyes, she seemed to disappear.

"What is it Bran?" his father asked, his eyes going back and forth between his son and the other side of the bridge.

He knew she was still there. Her cloak blended in perfectly with the snow around her. All she had to do was tuck her head down and she could hide herself. "There's a woman over there," Bran said, pointing towards the mother wolf.

Jon turned his horse once more, but Theon began to chuckle. "Robb, sounds like your brother is starting to have his own fantasies. A wolf woman in the woods, eh?" he asked before Robb slapped the back of Theon's neck.

"Shut up Theon," Robb growled. "Probably just a trick on the eyes Bran," his brother reasoned before pushing his horse forward.

Jon and his father stayed with him, watching the area near the wolf. "Should I go look, my lord?" Jon asked, his wolf curling closer to him.

His father was silent before shaking his head. "No. It was probably nothing Bran," he answered before ruffling Bran's hair. Both turned their heads away and urged their horses onward.

She lifted her head up and smiled at Bran. Something about her smile put him on guard and eased him. Almost like how he felt whenever he saw flurries falling from the sky in the evenings. She waved her hand over the she-wolf and Bran watched as the mother rose. The shaggy coat almost seemed to groom itself. Both the woman and the wolf looked at him before disappearing into the trees behind him.

Bran wanted to speak, but his father called for him. So he too urged his horse forward. His wolf licked his cheek and the young lord smiled.


	2. Chapter 2 - Eddard

**Eddard**

When him and his men got to Winterfell, he couldn't help but feel slightly shaken. Typically after he took a man's life, he went to the godswood, but there was something different about today. When Bran had stopped them because he spied a woman, Ned could not help but look.

And he felt something there.

It was not hostile, so he didn't worry about it but now he couldn't help but wonder who – or what – had been out there with them. After dismounting, he approached Jory. "Take some men and return to the bridge. Bury the direwolf," he ordered. He could see that Jory wanted to question why his lord was sending him to bury a monster but Ned didn't have a good explanation for him. "As the sigil of my house, the direwolf deserves more than scavengers eating her away," he added, hoping that Jory would find that sufficient.

Thankfully, his man didn't question him. Jory simply nodded and hollered for some men and tools.

Ned wondered what they would find. Would they find a woman in white already giving the wolf a proper burial? Would they see footprints that would support Bran's observation? Or would they find a rotting direwolf?

Regardless, it was the honorable thing to do. The direwolf didn't deserve to be scavenged. It was a noble creature and it needed some sort of recognition. He watched as Sansa, Arya, and Rickon all came out to see why their brothers were excitedly calling for them. Sansa seemed to dance at the sight of the pups while Arya smiled and picked the pup that was struggling in Theon's arms, as if it wanted to go to her. Rickon was given the dark gray that was resting in Robb's other arm.

Smiling at the sight of his children and their wolves, he thought of how Cat would respond. He'd probably hear about it later, which caused a short chuckle to leave his lips. His Cat would ask why he didn't just give their children trout.

Heading in the direction of the godswood, he wondered why there were direwolves past the Wall. Perhaps he would ask Benjen the next time his brother came down his way.

Entering the godswood, he let out a sigh. He knew his wife didn't like this godswood. As a Tully of Riverrun, Catelyn was use to bright, garden-like godswoods. She had been raised to pray in a sept, not the godswood. Winterfell's godswood was like the rest of the north, especially in the winter. Grim, dark, and a little gloomy. While he felt at peace here, she felt like an intruder.

He was cleaning his greatsword under the heart tree whenever Cat found him. She always knew where he went after days like this one. Even though he was always pleased to see Cat, he greeted her with a distant, formal tone, one that was expected in the godswood.

He questioned about the whereabouts of their children. She answered as she spread out her cloak so she could sit beside the pool. Ned could tell that she was trying to ignore the eyes of the weirwood. He hated that she was so uncomfortable with his gods, but accepted that nothing could be done about it.

"Arya is already in love, and Sansa is charmed and gracious, but Rickon is not quite sure," Catelyn explained.

He expected Rickon to be uneasy about the pups. His young son feared a few things and Ned was trying to figure out ways to help his youngest to face what he feared. Winter was coming and they all needed to be ready; they couldn't be afraid.

They spoke of their children for a few more minutes before shifting to the subject of the execution and the King-beyond-the-Wall.

When the Others were brought up, he couldn't help but think of what Bran claimed to see. In the stories told by Old Nan, it seemed like the Others could disappear if they wanted to. If direwolves could be away from the Wall, couldn't the Others?

He felt ridiculous for the thoughts. The Others were a story you told children to make them cautious about leaving the sight of their parents.

"I am so sorry, my love. Jon Arryn is dead," Cat stated, snapping Ned out of hi odd thoughts. Jon Arryn? Dead? Learning of this, Ned's throat constricted. He had been like a father whenever both Ned and Robert lived with him. Then, they became brothers-in-arms during Robert's Rebellion. Fifteen years ago, they also became brothers when they both wedded a Tully sister, Ned with Cat and Jon with Lysa.

As if the death wasn't enough news, Catelyn also said that the king was riding for Winterfell. He should've guessed that that would be Robert's next move. They were both fostered by Jon Arryn and Ned considered Robert to be one of his closest friends even thought the men barely spoke to one another.

Not only did he give them hardly any notice, but the number of people coming in his party? There would be only one reason for the entire royal family to be coming up to Winterfell with winter coming.

"We must prepare. We have some time, but must work out several other things. How are we going to feed them all? An honor guard will need to be sent to meet them. Damn the man. Damn his royal hide," Ned muttered as he stood and assisted his wife up.


	3. Chapter 3 - Catelyn

**Catelyn**

Too much seemed to be happening to her lord husband. First he had learned of Jon Arryn's death. She could not even imagine how it must feel to lose yet another father and brother. She knew that Jon Arryn's death brought up memories of Ned's father and brother who had been murdered by the Mad King's orders.

Then he learned of King Robert's trip. This visit would probably cost Winterfell a great deal and winter was coming, as her husband pointed out numerous times. It was also no challenge to figure out why Robert was bringing his entire family and party to the north.

He would ask Ned to take Jon Arryn's place as Hand of the King. That position would take her husband to King's Landing, which was probably the last place he wanted to go. Her husband was a northern man. Anything less than the north made Ned grow surly and uncomfortable.

After leaving the godswood, the couple was on their way to the hall when Jory breathlessly approached her husband. She had heard about the mother direwolf that was killed by the broken antler of a stag. The sign worried her, since the direwolf was the sigil of their house and the stag was the king's.

But Jory claimd that the direwolf was gone.

He said the bloodstained snow was still there but the mother wolf was gone. Apparently there were woman-sized footprints walking alongside broad wolf prints. At the mention of a woman, Ned froze before saying that he needed to speak with Bran immediately.

Why Bran would know anything about a barefooted woman and a resurrection of a wolf, Catelyn wasn't sure. What she did know what that the direwolf's resurrection must be a sign as well. Perhaps there was no reason to be uneasy about the king's arrival? Perhaps it meant that the Starks were in the gods' favor?

She followed her husband in his quest to find Bran, who they found in his room with Old Nan. Her little boy was listening to stories about direwolves as his own slept in his lap.

"Bran?" Ned asked as he sat at the edge of the bed. "Describe the woman to me. The one you saw earlier."

Old Nan continued to rock in her chair but she focused on her knitting instead of Cat and two of her men.

She watched as he stroked his little pup. "She was wearing white. A gown and cloak as white as the snow, which is how you didn't see her. Her face was also really pale. Almost as pale as the weirwood," he stated, his eyes dancing back and forth between his parents.

"Yes? Anything else?" Ned pushed.

Bran's brows scrunched together. "Her hood was up but I could see brown hair."

"What of her eyes, little lord? Were they a bright blue?" Old Nan asked curiously.

Cat didn't understand the woman's question until the color bright blue registered in her mind. Did they truly believe that the Others were here? By Ned's stance, Cat realized that he believed it so. Not only an hour or so ago he had dismissed it when she suggested it.

"No," Bran said slowly, as if he were trying to determine the exact color of her eyes. He straightened as if he remembered. "We looked at one another and her eyes were like a gray. They reminded me of cloudy skies," he stated, then realizing what Old Nan was truly asking his eyes grew wide. "Do you think she is an Other?"

Catelyn noticed how Ned's shoulders loosened. "No my boy," he answered with a slight smile. "The Others don't leave footprints, the woman did. Besides, the Others are all dead and gone," he reassured before rising from the bed.

Bran nodded as if he had never considered that Others were around Winterfell. "She was beautiful, too, Father. Like fresh, clean snow," he added as if he thought that the woman's beauty would help them determine who she was.

Both Ned and Catelyn smiled at Bran. "Fresh, clean snow is rather beautiful, is it not?" Old Nan asked, causing Bran to talk to her about stories of snow monsters. They left their son's room and walked together in silence.

Ned glanced at her and noticed her slight smile. "What?" he asked.

"You thought the woman was an Other?" she asked. She was rewarded with a rare eye roll.

"No. She left footprints," he restated causing her to exaggeratedly nod her head.

"But of course. You just wanted to know if her appearance was anything you might be familiar with," she explained before laughing.

He joined her with a deep chuckle of his own. "I suppose the man from earlier planted seeds of the fear in my mind earlier."

Yet there was no explanation as to who – or what – the white woman was.


	4. Chapter 4 - Jon

**Jon**

He was watching the boys practice in the yard from the window that allowed him to see the entire yard when he noticed that Ghost had moved away from him. Looking over his shoulder, he spotted his half-sister who resembled him so closely. Like him, she wanted to watch the fights between their brothers and the princes. He helped her onto the window and refocused on the match between Bran and Prince Tommen.

At this moment, Arya should have been with the septa, stitching with her little needle. Instead she was sitting with him, watching as their brother was swatting at the round prince.

"A shade more exhausting than needlework," Jon stated as he took note of both boys breathing heavily.

Arya quickly retorted, "A shade more fun than needlework." Such an Arya statement, he observed. There was no doubt that Arya much rather sweat with swords than be delicate with a needle. Glancing down at her, he wondered about the gift he had for her. She would love the thin little sword. No doubt that she would practice and learn how to wield it herself.

She asked why he wasn't down dueling. Being a bastard was something he wished he could change. It had its perks, like he didn't have to be part of the rest of his family at the feast the other night. He was able to drink as much wine as he pleased while his siblings were restricted to one cup. Other than that, it seemed like he had no benefits.

Lady Catelyn disliked him immensely because he was proof that his father was with another. He wasn't able to knock Prince Joffrey to the ground like he wanted. If he did, he'd probably be executed because of a few bruises marring the prince's pristine skin.

At the talk of arms, he stated, "Girls get the arms but not the swords. Bastards get the swords but not the arms. I did not make the rules, little sister."

Not completely true. Arya would have her own sword soon. Even though she needed to keep it a secret, she would have both the arms and the sword if she pleased. Jon, on the other hand, would always just have the sword.

Ser Rodrick called an end to Bran and Prince Tommen's bout and asked for Robb and Prince Joffrey to go another round. Robb could demolish Joffrey if given the chance; Jon had no doubt about it.

Joffrey, of course, caused a scene. The prince was a little shit, but he was afraid. Robb would embarrass him in the ring, so he sought out to embarrass Robb outside of it.

"Come and see me when you're older, Stark. If you're not _too_ old," the prince taunted, which caused the Lannister men to laugh. Robb, on the other hand, began to curse and move towards Joffrey.

Jon couldn't help but feel disappointed when Theon pulled Robb back. It was probably best that Theon had done so, but Joffrey had just torn at Robb's pride. No way would his half-brother forget that.

Theon kept hold of Robb until the Lannister party was well out of sight. One day, Joffrey and Robb would meet in a ring and his brother would make the prince eat his own words.

Looking at Arya, he warned her about Septa Mordane, which caused his little sister to go into a passionate rage.

"Nothing is fair," Jon stated before walking away from her with Ghost moving with him. Arya would surely get in trouble, the poor girl. Was it her fault that she was so adventurous? Their father repeatedly said that Arya reminded him of his deceased sister. Did anyone hold Lyanna's nature against her like they did with Arya?

After taking a few steps he realized that Ghost was no longer brushing against his leg. Instead, the wolf was looking out another window. Curious as to what captured the quiet wolf's attention, he walked towards the albino and looked out the window.

He didn't see it at first. All he saw was Joffrey who had clearly just fallen into a rogue bit of dung near the Great Hall. The prince was complaining and demanding that the Lannister men to clean off the prince's fine clothing. He also heard Theon's loud chuckles, which made Jon think that his brothers and Theon had seen Joffrey's embarrassing moment.

But that wasn't what Ghost was focused on. Instead, the wolf was looking at the roof of the Great Hall, where a cloaked figure was peeking down at embarrassing moments. When the figure turned its face towards Jon and his wolf, he realized that the cloaked figure had to be the white woman that Bran had seen near the bridge.

He watched as she lifted a single finger to her mouth, a motion for Jon to be quiet. She smiled mischievously before disappearing.

A white owl then flew from the roof.


	5. Chapter 5 - Eddard

**Eddard**

When he left that morning to go hunting with the king and the rest of the party, he didn't expect to get such black news concerning his son. Him and Catelyn sat next to Bran's bedside all night as master did what he could for the boy. All night, Bran's wolf howled to him. Ned assumed that no one slept but who could sleep when such a young boy seemed to be wasting away?

Leaving Bran's side, he found Robert waiting for him. "How is he?" the king asked, the lack of sleep evident on his face.

This Robert was not his king. This was the Robert who mourned with him when the death of Lyanna haunted them both.

Rubbing his calloused hand over his face, Ned looked back towards Bran's room. "Maester Luwin says there is no change, which he believes is a good sign," he sighed. "He thinks Bran will live, but… Bran's so broken… How do you survive that?"

Robert put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "I heard his back is broken and is legs are shattered. Is there any chance he'll walk again?"

Ned shook his head and put a hand over his mouth. Bran always dreamt of being a knight. Now there was no chance. How can a man battle if he has legs to push him?

"I know you're needed here Ned, but I need you in King's Landing, too," Robert hesitantly said.

It was true. If Lysa's suspicions were true, Robert's life was at risk. Rubbing his temples, he grimaced at the sound of another wolf howl. He knew he should be thankful for Bran's wolf. It seemed like the wolf was willing life into Bran's body, which is what mattered at this point. Ned hoped that Bran would wake before they left for King's Landing. He needed to tell him that he could join them after he got stronger.

"I don't want to command you to come with me. I want it to be your own accord, but I'll do it if I must," Robert warned.

Ned wondered if Robert was trying to distract him with other topics. If so, it wasn't working. "If I must go, my grace, I will go with you," he stated, silently wishing that Robert would tell him it wasn't of importance and he could stay in Winterfell. He knew better, though.

The king led him to a bench in the hall. "How about we sit?" the king asked. He might be a hardheaded man, but at least Robert realized that Ned needed to be near Bran for as long as he could.

"I heard that your bastard is going with Ben to the Wall. Tyrion is tagging along, the odd little imp," Robert added, switching topics.

He hated that Jon was going to the Wall with Ben. He understood why Jon wanted to do it and the guilt was slowly destroying Ned. Perhaps he could tell Jon about his mother. Glancing at Robert, Ned realized that it probably was not the best time. Maybe Ned would be able to visit the Wall soon so he could tell Jon about his mother. Gods knew that the boy deserved to know about her.

A fortnight had passed before it was time for their party to leave. He left a grieving Cat, a scared Robb, a broken Bran, and a crying Rickon behind him. The girls were excited to be on this trip, specifically the elated Sansa. Jon had left for the wall with Ben, Tyrion, and two Lannister men. He promised the boy that he would tell him about his mother the next time they met. Hopefully, Jon would understand why Ned was always so cautious about her.

Now the king was opening him for an early run, as if they could escape their duties and responsibilities. Ned yearned with all his heart and soul to turn and run towards Winterfell.

When Robert came to a stop, they began to speak of Robin and the Targaryen girl who just married a Dothraki horse lord. They then spoke of Jamie Lannister and how he sat upon the Iron Throne. Robert saw it as a joke but the scene had always disturbed Ned. A man of the Kingsguard on his slain king's throne, his sword still coated in the king's blood.

Robert dismissed it as easily as he dismissed everything else. He kicked his horse into motion but Ned refused to follow. How could a man dismiss such information? How could a man like Ned watch after a man like Robert? He was no Jon Arryn who could teach wisdom and tame wildness. He did not belong with Robert in King's Landing. He belonged in Winterfell with his Catelyn, with Bran.

A man could not always be where he belonged, Ned decided with a sigh.

Author's Note:

This chapter was more of filler. I want to just briefly touch on a few things until I get into the real story. I didn't want to rewrite Bran's fall because him falling is a bit of a crucial part.

Like the earlier parts in this story, I do use some quotes from _A Game of Thrones_ but I think it's fairly obvious which words are mine and which are GRRM. After all, he has like a poetic quality that I don't.


	6. Chapter 6 - Arya

**Arya**

Sansa found her by the banks of the Trident. She was attempting to brush the mud out of Nymeria's fur, but the direwolf refused to stand still. If she weren't so annoyed with her wolf, she would laugh about how similar they were. Whenever anyone tried to clean Arya, she found as hard as Nymeria.

Her _perfect_ older sister informed her that they would be riding in the wheelhouse with the queen and princess. Lips curling in distaste, Arya focused on one particular tangle. "Not me. I'm going with Mycah to look for rubies at the ford."

She could feel her sister's confusion and Arya couldn't help but to roll her eyes at her sister's stupidity. "_Rhaegar's_ rubies. This is where the king killed him and won his crown," she informed, hardly believing that her sister could be so stupid.

Sansa looked at her in a way that reminded her of how Bran looked whenever she did better than him at archery. The two argued some more about riding in the wheelhouse. Sansa wanted to go because she believed it was proper and Sansa _always_ did the proper thing. Arya, however, didn't want to be confined in a place that didn't even have windows. Especially when there was so much to see!

"Hold still Nymeria! I'm not hurting you," she snapped as the wolf continued to jump around. While she brushed her direwolf, she told Sansa of all the things she had seen while they journeyed through the neck. Glancing over her shoulder she noticed that Sansa wasn't even listening to her. Turning back to Nymeria, she felt her eyes burn slightly. Why couldn't she have a sister who listened to her? Who wanted to talk to her? Arya had that in Jon but now he was gone.

Her wriggling wolf made her focus on the present. "Will you stop? I still have to brush the other side. It's not my fault you're all muddy," she said in her scolding voice. Nymeria simply ignored her and growled when Arya tugged on the brush. "_Nymeria_. Come back here!" she shouted to the wolf that spun away to escape the terrifying brush.

Sansa and Lady watched her stalk her wary wolf. Her older sister continued to ramble about Princess Marcella and the stupid wheelhouse. "I don't care what you say, I'm going riding," Arya stated willfully as she wrestled with her wolf.

When she noticed her sister walking away, she shouted after her, commenting on how Lady wouldn't be able to go in the wheelhouse either. After Sansa disappeared from her view, she sighed and looked at the victorious Nymeria. At least most of the mud was off of her.

Smiling at her willful wolf, she clapped her hands. "Let's go find Mycah!" Arya proposed, which caused Nymeria's ears to perk happily. Clearly her wolf understood that the brushing was over and it was time for sword practice.

The butcher's boy was nice and had some experience with swordplay. Even though he couldn't instruct Arya like a real master-of-arms, he could give Arya some basics. Jon would have done it if they had all stayed in Winterfell. She probably would have learned more with Jon, but Mycah was nice and a good friend.

Wandering back to the inn, Arya quickly found Mycah already saddling both of their horses. It was nice of him, really. They would ride ahead, like she told Sansa and they would practice with the wooden sticks that Mycah had.

The horses shied slightly away from Nymeria, whose tail was wagging as she watched Mycah had Arya a broom handle. "My father says we can't go too far and to be careful," he stated with a smile as he pulled himself onto his horse.

The two then pushed their horses into a trot with Nymeria loping ahead of them. When they reached a clearing that overlooked the river, Arya leapt off of her horse. "This is perfect!" she exclaimed as Nymeria ran a few yards away. Even if Nymeria was out of her sight, she knew that Nymeria was always watching after her.

Mycah tied their horses to a low-hanging branch before holding his sword up. Smiling, Arya too raised her sword and they began their play.

She was able to land a few good hits on Mycah, one of which made him actually grunt. After that hit, though, Mycah decided to push her and his hits came quickly. She was able to dodge and block most of them, but he got her shoulder and arms a few times. It wasn't until he hit her fingers that she actually cried out in pain.

Laughter caused Mycah to drop his wooden weapon. He looked slightly afraid but Arya simply glared at the intruders. Of course Sansa would be riding with Joffrey and _of course _they would interrupt the game.

Angry tears filled her eyes and she demanded they leave, but Joffrey just seemed to push it. He pulled out his own sword – a real one – and walked towards Mycah, who began to babble about how his sword was only a stick.

Arya watched as the prince cut her friend's cheek. Something inside of her snapped. Normally she would've just gotten upset and shouted at Sansa, but seeing blood trickle down her friend's – just an innocent boy – face caused her to erupt. She grabbed her stick and yelled at him, warning him. When he failed to heed her warning, she swung her sword and her a satisfying _crack_ as her broom broke against the back of the prince's head.

Mycah was able to get away but now Arya had an angry, armed prince staring at her. Fear filled her veins but her anger seemed to boil it away. She threw a rock at him, but missed. Maybe Mycah would be able to use Joffrey's horse since he left his behind.

The prince backed her towards the woods and Arya scrambled to get away. He was going to kill her. She could see it in his eyes. Sansa was screaming and Arya realized that Sansa was about to see her betrothed kill her sister. Before she could scream to Sansa, Nymeria was there, disarming and ripping the prince.

As satisfying as it was, she snapped at her wolf that left the prince to come to her mistress. Arya picked up his sword and held it to him. Joffrey pleaded and Sansa screamed at her. Nymeria had turned the tables and now Arya held Joffrey's life in her hands. Showing the mercy he wouldn't have showed her, she spun and heaved his sword towards the river. Now it could rest with Rhaegar's rubies.

When she heard the splash, she ran to her horse and fled with Nymeria close to her horse's heels. She had to get away. Joffrey would tell his mother and the king. People would come after her. After Nymeria. Tears filled her eyes as she raced through the woods.

Dawn caused the sky to lighten. It had been three or four days since she fled from Joffrey. Her stomach was tightening because of the little amount of food that she had had. Nymeria had hunted for her but she didn't dare make a fire. She was hunkered in the woods with Nymeria. Her horse had thrown her at some point and now Nymeria was sharing her heat with Arya. When they both heard a familiar voice crying for her, she lifted her head. She could make out Jory not too far from her. "Jory," she sobbed, standing and running to him.

"Little lady," Jory sighed in relief before running towards her. She ran into his arms, tears freely falling from her eyes. "Are you okay?" he asked, pushing her to arms length and studying her dirty cheeks and matted hair. He looked at Nymeria and noted her slightly red lips. "Nymeria bit Joffrey to save you, didn't she?" he asked, making Arya realize something that chilled her blood.

Everyone already believed that the direwolves were wild and not fit for pets. Even though Nymeria protected her, she assaulted the great prince.

Crying, she pushed away from Jory and wrapped her arms around Nymeria's gray neck.

"She needs to go, my lady," Jory said softly, lightly petting the top of Nymeria's head.

Some wolves began to howl in the distance. Kissing Nymeria's cheek, Arya wiped away her tears. "Go to them Nymeria. You need to run and be free," Arya lied. Tilting her head, Nymeria whined and licked Arya's face, which caused more tears to fall. "There are wolves out there you can play with. You can play chase and hunt with them," Arya informed her as if she were familiar with pack games.

"You'll love it in these woods, little Nymeria. Plenty of deer for you to hunt," Jory added before helping Arya to her feet. They eased away but Nymeria simply followed them, not caring about what they had to say about the nice wolves and pretty forest.

"I don't want you anymore!" Arya cried, hating the bitter taste of the lie on her lips. They tried to walk away again but Nymeria shadowed them.

"She can't come with us, my lady," Jory crooned as Arya's resistance wavered. He was right, of course. Nymeria wouldn't be safe back at the inn. "I have an idea," he stated as he bent down to pick up a few rocks. Knowing the idea, dread curled in her belly. She took one of the rocks and threw it towards Nymeria's feet, hoping that Nymeria would spin away like she did at the river.

But Nymeria let the rock strike her paws. Whining, gold eyes regarded her with love. The wolf didn't want to leave her. They got ready to throw another rock when Nymeria's head snapped to the side.

A woman in white and gray stood before them. She pulled up her skirts as she walked towards Nymeria. Looking at Arya and Jory, Arya noted how sadness filled the woman's gray eyes. She tilted her head towards the two humans before focusing on the she-wolf who was dancing with uncertainty.

"Come child," the woman whispered. Arya thought the woman's voice was beautiful. It was a voice that you knew would calm any predator and stop any storm. Nymeria seemed slightly uneasy until two monsters appeared next to the woman. Jory's breath left him as he eased Arya behind him.

The woman had two full-sized direwolves with her. One looked like Nymeria. Her coat was a flinty color with a slash of red near her heart, almost as if the female had been stabbed. The other was predominately white, like Jon's Ghost, except it had a black stripe along its spine, gray eyes, and scars across its muzzle. "Come," the woman beckoned. "You will see her again," she promised.

Who she made the promise to, Arya was unsure. All she knew was Nymeria whined before coming to the woman's side. Then, without a glance, the woman ran away with three direwolves with her.


	7. Chapter 7 - Eddard

**Eddard**

Four days of searching and finally Arya had been found. He would be sure to reward Jory for his hard work. His captain practically refused to sleep. He knew the man seemed to blame himself for Arya's disappearance, but the only one to blame was her father. Ned should have stayed with his daughters. It wasn't right for him to leave them, especially after what happened to Bran.

When his steward told him that his daughter would not be brought directly to him, but the king, he was furious. How dare the Lannisters not bring his daughter to him? He instructed his steward to fetch Sansa and bring her to the audience chamber so she could speak about what happened in the clearing. He could barely stand this morning, but now his fury filled him with the strength to march across the castle yard. Tensions were already hot and heavy between the king's party and Ser Raymun and his men. Now, add on the tension that was sure to occur exist within the party, specifically between the Lannisters and the Starks.

He entered the chamber and saw the queen with her hand on her son's shoulder. Where was his daughter? "Arya," he called loudly, who he saw standing with Jory in the center of the room. He marched to her and fell to one knee as she cried out to him and began to sob her apologies.

Relief flooded his veins. She looked unharmed but he couldn't help but ask, "Are you hurt?" He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead in a rare showing of public affection.

"No. Just hungry some. I found some berries, but there was nothing else," she answered while rubbing her cheeks, which caused the dirt on her face to be smudged.

"We'll feed you soon. Right after this," he promised before giving her one last hug. He rose to face his friend who appeared to be the king at this moment. "What is the meaning of this? Why was my daughter not brought to me at once?" he demanded to know.

His eyes were focused on the king but it was the queen who answered. "How dare you to speak to your king in that manner," she scolded.

The wolf's hackles rose and he nearly snarled at the lioness. The king hushed his wife before apologizing to his friend about not having his daughter brought to him. "It seemed best to have her brought here so this business can be over with quickly," he reasoned, which didn't cause Ned's nerves to settle.

"What business is that?" he asked icily.

As if he had caused her claws to unsheathe, the queen said, "You know what business, Stark. This wild girl of yours attacked my son. Her and that butcher's boy. That wolf of hers nearly tore his arm off," she claimed, tightening her hold on her son's shoulder.

"That's not true," Arya argued. "He was hurting Mycah. Then he turned his sword on me. Nymeria only bit him a little."

"Joff told us what happened. You and the butcher boy beat him with clubs, then you set your wolf on him," the queen accused.

Arya was near tears once more. "That's not how it was," she said. Ned couldn't help but set his hand on her shoulder, giving her some of his strength.

"They all attacked me! She then threw Lion's Tooth in the river!" Joffrey insisted without sparing a glance at Arya.

"Liar!" Arya cried and Ned's hand tightened on her shoulder. He believed her, of course, but she needed to keep herself in line. She needed to know that it was not wise to antagonize a lion's cub. Just as Cersi should know it was not wise to antagonize a wolf… As her son had learned rather painfully days before.

"Shut up!" the prince yelled.

"Enough!" Robert boomed, rising from his seat and appearing to be an irritated stag. When there was silence, the king instructed Arya to tell him her side of the story and then Joffrey would tell him his. While Ned thought it was an honorable approach, he also knew that it would be easy to spin a lie and claim it as the truth. By knowing his daughter, he believed her more than the boy who taunted Robb in the training ring.

Their stories were completely different reactions to the event and Ned nearly smiled when Renly Baratheon began to laugh. "Perchance later you'll tell me how a nine-year-old girl the size of a wet rat managed to disarm you with a broom handle and throw your sword in the river." If the situation wasn't so severe, Ned might have smiled and asked his daughter how she did it. For now, he just put both hands on her shoulders and squeezed.

Next, Sansa was asked to tell the king what she saw. She claimed that she didn't remember and Ned knew in that instant that Arya's story was the truthful one. If Joffrey's had been true, Sansa would not have hesitated to agree. But here she was, stuck between the truth and her betrothal. What more could she do than claim ignorance?

Arya did not see this, did not see that her sister was doing what she was limited to. His feisty child knocked his polite one to the ground while shrieking.

"Arya, stop it," he demanded as Jory pulled Arya away and Ned helped Sansa stand. If Arya hadn't attacked Sansa, he would not have done any punishing like the king suggested. His daughter was being honest, why should she be punished for it? But attacking one of her own? Yes, Arya would receive a firm talking to.

"Gladly, your grace," Ned replied, feeling relieved that his daughter was not losing a hand. He would have happily parted from the chamber if not for the queen.

"What of the beast that savaged your son's arm? The direwolf?" she questioned her king.

His king stopped and turned with a frown. "I forgot about the beast," he admitted.

Jory answered with, "We found no trace of the direwolf, your grace." Ned, however, did notice how his daughter tightened just a little in his captain's arms. He would speak with Jory later about the young Nymeria.

The queen offered golden dragons for Nymeria's skin, which caused Ned's stomach to twist. There were men in this room who were stupid enough to take the woman up on her offer. Some who could probably track wild animals.

The lioness taunted the stag before triumphantly saying, "We have a wolf."

It took Ned a moment to comprehend what the queen was suggesting. His friend agreed with the woman's word and Ned nearly lost his breath. He had dodged one blow only to have another strike him. "Robert. You cannot mean this," Ned protested, fearing the moment when his delicate Sansa would also understand the situation at hand.

The moment came and crystal blue eyes looked at him, searching for the truth. "No," she stated firmly when she understood. "Lady didn't bite anyone. She's good!" Sansa argued, tears filling her eyes and breaking Ned's heart.

"Lady wasn't there!" Arya protested, defending her sister's wolf. "You leave her alone!" she cried angrily. Hopefully his daughters would remember how they protected and fought for one another.

Sansa erupted into a babbling babe. At first he had been a little hesitant about his children having direwolves for pets, but he knew that each child had forged a bond with their wild pets. Did he still worry that one morning he might find a child of his without a throat, yes, but the wolves had yet to act up. Nymeria's actions were the first truly rebellious ones that he had encountered.

"Please, Robert. For the love your bear for me. The love you bore my sister. Please," Ned pleaded, hoping it might sway his king to refuse his wife's demand. But no words could sway Robert's decision not even with Ned requested that the king look into Lady's eyes as the stag swung the sword.

"Where is the direwolf?" the queen asked as if she had just won a great battle.

"Chained up by the gatehouse, your grace," Ser Barristan the Bold answered rather reluctantly. At least another man saw the injustice in this moment.

"Send for Ilyn Payne," the queen instructed, which was the last straw for Ned. He would not allow some butcher to take the life of a northern child. He would do it, even if it meant that his daughter would look at him with wounded eyes. At least he respected the wolf.

"She is of the north. She deserves better than a butcher," he stated, hoping the answer would cause the queen to let him be.

As he left the room, he noted that his eyes were burning. They were either burning because of the betrayal that Robert had allowed or because he could hear both his daughters wailing. The direwolf pup was sitting where they chained her. "Lady," he said, tasting the name. While he hadn't paid attention to how his children named their wolves, he realized that Sansa chose a name that fit her wolf perfectly. The smallest pup in the litter was by far the most delicate and most beautiful, just as Sansa was in the Stark litter.

He smiled regrettably as he touched the wolf's gray fur. The queen wanted this fur for herself. Gods help him but she would never have Lady's pelt. Her bright gold eyes looked at him with so much trust that it would have brought him to his knees if he weren't already kneeling near her.

Jory brought him Ice, but he still couldn't swing his sword. Not with those gentle eyes looking at him. This wolf would have never hurt his child. As he lifted the sword, he noticed something peculiar. Frost was forming on the wolf's chain.

"My lord…" Jory started before staring at a face peeking around the corner of the gatehouse.

The white woman moved silently to them, a bag being pulled behind her. She knelt, setting the bag at Ned's feet. Based on the smell, he would guess that it was a carcass of some animal. What animal, he couldn't be sure. Watching him, she touched the chain holding Lady.

To his amazement, the chain broke apart and Lady was freed.

Ned studied the stranger, the one who was probably seen by Bran that day the Starks found the pups. Her eyes were a calming gray. He would say they were like the eyes of the Starks but there was something different about hers. Perhaps it was the red lining that framed her almond shaped eyes that made him realize that she was more than just flesh and blood.

Her pale hand found Lady's shoulder. The wolf went to the woman without question, no doubt because of her trusting nature. Ned's hand tightened on his sword. If this woman sought to take his daughter's wolf…

She touched the bloody bag she set before him. "The Lannister woman shall _never_ have this skin," she stated, echoing his earlier thoughts. The woman turned and Lady trailed after her. Before he could even question her, the woman and wolf seemed to disappear.

Glancing around, Ned looked to see if anyone had spied the exchange. When it was clear that no one had seen them, Ned lifted the bag and gave it to Jory. "Choose four men and have them take the body north. Bury her at Winterfell," he instructed, knowing that if anyone was around they would hardly think anything of it.

Playing along, Jory asked, "All that way?" as if he were astonished by his lord's order.

"All that way. The Lannister woman shall never have this skin."


	8. Chapter 8 - Bran

**Bran**

As the black-haired woman ran out of his room, shouting, "He's awake! He's awake!" Bran touched where the crow had pecked him. It was burning, but there was no blood, not even a wound. When he noticed movement next to the bed, he glanced to see his wolf jumping up onto his bed and resting near his legs.

But he felt nothing.

The wolf had to be his pup. Those golden eyes seemed so familiar, yet the pup was so much bigger than he remembered. Bran watched the wolf's eyes move towards the other side of the bed. Turning his head in curiosity, he saw the white woman that he had seen the day they found the pups.

Her hood was down and Bran noticed how her wavy brown hair was as thick as some of the furs his family had in some of the castle's best rooms. He realized he was right about her eyes. He had told his father that they had been dark, hadn't he? Even though they were gray like Jon and Arya's, he could make out some black strands in her irises.

Something he hadn't noticed that one day was what lined her eyes. The lines were thin, but the boldness of the red made him think of the weirwood out in the godswood. Her pale hand reached out to touch the spot the crow had pecked.

"Ah. Now I see why your fate could not be changed," she murmured softly. Her voice made him feel less dizzy.

"Who are you?" he asked weakly.

Her smile was kind as she sat next to him on his bed. She extended a hand towards his wolf and stroked the male's gray head. "Who I am does not matter at this moment," she informed. "What matters is who your wolf is."

Both of them looked at the wolf in question. He didn't know what to name him. Ghost was a neat name but Jon already claimed it. Robb named his Grey Wind because of his wolf's speed. Arya named hers after some warrior queen. Sansa wasn't very creative when she gave her wolf the name of Lady. Then there was Rickon childishly naming his wolf Shaggydog.

Looking at his wolf, he realized how much he missed him while he was falling with the crow. His wolf was always there with him. Even now, when the black-haired woman ran out, his wolf stayed and warmed him.

Straightening at that thought, Bran looked at the white woman. "Summer," he informed. She seemed to consider it before smiling and looking at Bran's companion.

"A fitting name," she mused before looking back at Bran.

Now her eyes looked as if they were full of terrible knowledge. They had done their nice conversation about his friend, but now she looked haunted. Turning to him, she held his hands in her own.

"Do you know why men start wars?" she asked. She didn't give him much time to answer, obviously because she wanted to speak before his mother or brother arrived. "Wars are created by gods. One god's envy can lead to crops burning. Another god's rage can lead to boiling seas. A god's sadness could lead to a devastating winter," she said in a way that reminded him of how Old Nan told stories.

Her hands tightened around his at the sound of someone running up the stairs. "I cannot stay for long. Your family is in great danger. I will do my best to change the fate that has been seen, but you must encourage your family to always be open-minded. You have survived something that many would not survive. You will be easily believed if you tell others to look towards the godswoods," she warned and Bran felt as if a great responsibility had just been put on his shoulders. "There, your family can be watched by the old. In the South, the new will watch your father and sisters," she added.

"What is going to happen?" he asked, slightly afraid.

She stood as she looked towards the door. "If you do as I ask, nothing will happen," she answered before leaning and kissing the center of his forehead. "No one must know of our meeting. No one," she added before disappearing.

As she disappeared, Robb breathlessly burst into the room. Bran thought of the woman and her warnings. His direwolf licked his face, as if he were getting rid of any evidence that the woman had kissed him.

Bran looked up at Robb with a calm expression even though the woman's warnings were still ringing in his ears. "His name is Summer," he informed before extending his arm towards Summer's head.

Tears of joy welled up in Robb's eyes as he laughed at Bran's words. "Is it now?" he asked. Bran knew his brother was laughing because of the ease Bran spoke, but he didn't feel like laughing.

What danger was his family in? Recalling the dream, he remembered his mother sitting in a cabin. On her table rested a bloodstained knife that he assumed was used against her since she had bandages on her hands. He thought of his pleading father with the king, then Sansa crying herself to sleep. Arya had been silent but the shadows around her filled Bran with dread.

His family was in danger. Whoever the woman was, she promised to change that for his family. How would she do that? Who was she?

Like he thought of earlier, the red lines shaping her eyes reminded him of the weirwood. Then she spoke of such knowledge concerning gods. Was she a god? Or was she one of the children that Old Nan spoke of? And what did she mean about his fate not being changeable? She touched the spot where the crow pecked him. Did she have some knowledge of what that meant? Would she be able to help him understand the dream? Why hadn't she been part of it?

Robb was now sitting where the white woman had been sitting before she disappeared. His older brother pulled him into his arms and Bran was certain he felt tears on the skin near Robb's head. He tried to move towards his brother but nothing happened. His legs did not shift under the covers. He didn't even feel Summer move his head to Bran's knee.

Forgetting about the woman, his hold on Robb tightened. "I can't… Robb…" he trailed before daring to move his own arm towards his leg. He hesitated before poking at his thigh. Robb pulled away and watched as Bran did anything he could to his leg. Poke it, pinch it. When he was about to slap it, Robb caught his hand.

"Bran… The fall broke…" he started, but Bran didn't understand. You could feel broken legs. Looking at Robb with confusion and fear, his brother held his hands like the woman. "Bran… you can't walk. Maester Luwin says the fall broke not only your legs… but your back. You're… you're crippled," his brother tried to explain.

A cripple?

He would never ride again. He would never become the knight he dreamed of becoming. He wouldn't be able to best Robb in the training yard.

Bran mentally began to list what he would not be because of this downfall. Why did the woman not speak of his disability? He knew she only had a little bit of time to talk to him but why did they talk about his wolf? They could have talked about him.

Looking at Summer, the wolf's eyes seemed to be filled with knowing and Bran began to feel ashamed.

His family was in danger and he was worried about his legs.

Author's Note:

WOW! I've gotten quite a few follows/story alert/author alert notifications. Thank you all for that! Also, shout out to spartan4 who shares my thoughts about the gods' involvement in the Starks' lives. I hope the rest of the story keeps you entertained!

As I mentioned before, these first few chapters are just me trying to set things up. Morena will become a big player in just a few chapters if any of you are curious about the white woman. Thank you for reading! If you have any comments (good or bad), I love hearing about ways I can improve or just if you like the track I'm taking with my story.


	9. Chapter 9 - Robb

**Robb**

For the first time that he could remember, the light snow made him nervous. Today was the day that Bran would be able to ride out on his trained horse. A dozen different scenarios flew through Robb's head faster than Grey Wind chasing his prey. Trying to appear nonchalant and calm, he looked towards his brother.

"Are you ready?" he asked knowing that he wasn't ready. If Bran said that he wasn't sure, Robb would be more than happy to ride with him in the ring. He should have known better, though. His little brother, crippled as he may be, would never admit to being worried or afraid. They were Starks and the only thing to fear was winter.

Nodding his head, Robb tapped the sides of his gray-and-white gelding to start the ride that could go two different ways.

The small chestnut did well with his brother. She was only two years old but wise beyond her years. Joseth had no problem training her to respond to Bran's commands. Even though Robb was often busy being the Lord of Winterfell, he always watched Bran ride in the yard. Once, his steward had been trying to hold a discussion with him about finances or something, but Robb stationed himself near a window that allowed him to see his brave little brother. He knew Bran hated being a cripple. That much was obvious the day that Tyrion Lannister visited and brought the idea to them. He knew that Bran probably grew envious of him since Robb was always running around and Rickon was always playing with the wolves.

But no one was braver than Bran.

The master warned him that men may mock Bran and Robb needed to keep himself in check, but he knew he hated the idea of people not seeing Bran's bravery. Here was a boy who got caught in the crossfire between two houses. Here was the boy who should have been killed, but he was alive and well. Here was the boy who thought he could never ride.

Robb wanted the ride to just be about him and Bran. He saw the reason behind why that was not possible. Theon and the guardsmen were there to protect the lords. Joseth and Maester Luwin were here for Bran. If Bran's Dancer acted up, Joseth would intercede. If Bran fell, Maester Luwin would be needed.

So instead of two brothers, it was an entire party and two direwolves.

As they went through the town, Robb could not help but look at the people. If one dared to give Bran a dirty look…

"Did I ever tell you about the night that she and Bessa –" Theon started, obviously talking about one – really two – of his infamous conquests.

"Not where my brother can hear, Theon," Robb warned, glancing at Bran. He wasn't ultimately concerned about Bran's innocence, though. Bran was learning lessons that grown men would never learn. Besides, Bran knew of _some _mechanics behind what Theon was speaking of. Gods knew Theon talked about it enough.

Not wanting to listen to anything his father's ward was saying (at least, not when his brother was doing something that rode on such a thin line), he moved his horse to be closer to Bran's mare. "You're doing well," he complimented, wishing he could say more. If he said anything else, then Bran would think he was pitying him or something along those lines.

"I want to go faster."

Smiling at his brother's spirit, Robb nodded. "And so we shall," he said before kicking his gelding into a trot. The other horses sped up as well, but the only one Robb listened for was Dancer.

Glancing back, he saw his brother's cloak flying behind him as he pushed his mare to speed up. Robb couldn't help but grin. It seemed like Bran wanted to race.

"I can ride!" his brother shouted with an ecstatic grin.

Yes he could. Bran could ride.

They both eased their horses so they could joke and talk with on another. Robb wished he could stay in this gaming mood, but darker topics were surfacing in his mind. Uncle Benjen was missing. Their mother had taken the Imp prisoner. War was brewing. The Kingslayer and his company murdered Jory Cassel as well as many other Stark men. Their father's leg was shattered in the fight.

When Theon caught up, they both told Bran about possibly calling in the banners. He watched as Bran's joy melted away. The poor boy had lost his innocence and childhood, both of which Robb desperately wished he could give back.

But winter was coming.

Their wolves decided to go hunting and the party decided to look for the duo. When Robb and Bran heard both of their wolves' calls, Robb spurred his gelding and went to look for the pair. He hated leaving Bran behind but their escorts weren't too far.

It didn't take him long to find the wolves. An elk carcass rested at their paws and Robb swung off of his horse. Even though the gelding would hate it, he bent to pick up the carcass to set onto his horse's back. His gelding fidgeted but allowed Robb to set the wolves' meal down.

Glancing down at the pacing wolves, his veins filled with dread. Leaping behind the elk, Robb spun his gelding around and urged the mount to chase after the two wolves.

The sight that awaited him chilled his blood. Bran was surrounded by wildings, one of which was too close and armed.

"Put down your steel now and I promise you shall have a quick and painless death," he threatened, drawing his sword. Even though his voice was strained because of the weight of the elk, he knew Bran would be safe. The wildings taunted him and Robb whistled for the wolves to reveal themselves.

Some of the wildings grew uneasy, but the leader seemed to shrug it off. Robb was about to spur into action when another type of ambush occurred. Wolves that did not belong to either Robb or Bran leapt from the underbrush.

One was white with a dash of black splitting his back. He had tackled one man who had gray stubble on his gaunt face. Another wolf was like the one they had seen the day they got their pups. She was a gray with irises so blue they almost appeared white, which is the only reason why her eyes even caught his attention. She was ripping out the throat of one of the two men who had arrived later on the scene.

The Stark wolves were also in their own hunt. Summer was tearing at the belly of a short woman, while Grey Wind wrestled with one of the men in the water.

There was a tall woman who charged towards Robb with a large spear. They exchanged some blows, but when he knocked her off balance she lost her spear. He was readying himself to ride her down when he heard a wilding speak. He was the only wilding left and he was the one who Robb pegged as the leader. The man was also holding Bran with a knife tucked at his throat.

As angry as he was, Robb lowered his sword arm. He could hear Summer still ravaging on the short woman. Her intestines were spilled out around her and he did not hear any heavy breathing or wails from her direction. While the wilding woman inched towards her spear, Grey Wind stalked her. The other two direwolves, who were clearly full grown, were watching the big man, their destroyed prey lying at their feet in puddles of blood.

"Call them off!" the man shouted. Robb called the Stark wolves to him. Grey Wind did as he was told but Summer stayed near the woman, his gold eyes burning the man who held his master at knifepoint.

The big man tried to get the woman to kill the wolves, but she refused which meant that Robb was asked to do that next.

Before he could respond, a sharp wind blew and Robb watched as the man fell apart before him. It was a sight that would surely have him puking his next few meals. First, the hand holding the dagger fell to the ground. Based on the man's horrified and pain filled expression, he felt every slice. Bran was dropped as the man's body broke into cubes, leaving his little brother lying in blood.

He never even saw Theon's arrow heading towards him until a pale hand held it a few inches from his chest. His friend looked horrified and immediately dropped his bow, but Bran also looked scared until his blue eyes landed on whoever owned the pale hand.

Then he smiled.

Robb looked to his right and saw turbulent gray eyes framed by black eyelashes and red liner. He then took in her white face that was paler than his fair skin. He wondered how she was as tall as he was on horseback, but then received his answer when he looked down. Her white cloak and gown were draped across the back of a massive creature. When it extended its nose to his gelding, he realized that she was sitting astride a horse that had to be over eighteen hands high. Bigger than any horse in his father's stable.

After a few beats of silence, he was embarrassed to realize that he had been staring at her in disbelief. She allowed him to look, but when she slid from her horse's back, he took that as a sign that she was finished with studying him.

She went to Bran and knelt before him. "Any other cuts, young lord?" she asked, her voice more soothing than a slow moving river.

"No. Just the one," he answered as she tried to help him into a sitting position. Robb watched as she looked at his brother's leg before looking at Theon's arrow. As if she had just finished weighing something, she sliced her hand from wrist to thumb and press it against the cut on his brother's leg.

Maester Luwin came shuffling towards them and nearly yanked the woman off of Bran, but the woman paid him no mind. She ripped off a piece of her own cloak and wiped off the blood around the wound.

Robb heard the Maester draw a breath, which snapped him out of his shock filled gaze. "What have you done?" Robb demanded. His voice spurred Theon because his friend notched another arrow and was approaching the white woman while another guardsman made his way to the dry heaving wilding woman.

She didn't address him right away. Instead, she stared down Theon. "I healed him," she answered. "Kriplyana, Zephyros. Ne," her voice lashed out a foreign command.

It was then that Robb noticed how the two full-grown direwolves were snarling and making their way closer to their mistress, their eyes fastened on Theon. "She did as she said. It is as if there was no cut," Maester Luwin declared, eyeing the woman while putting himself between her and Bran.

"Lower your bow, Theon," Bran demanded. Theon looked towards Robb and he nodded his head in agreement. The woman meant Bran no ill will.

Turning, the women looked at both Robb and Bran and dipped her head with thanks. "What is your name?" Robb demanded, not knowing what else to do. After all, he assumed this was the woman who diced the wilding leader. She was also the one who caught Theon's arrow.

"She can't tell us," Bran claimed as if him and this white woman spoke frequently.

She smiled at Bran and his remark. "I couldn't tell you at that time. Now I may," she informed before pulling her hood down to reveal thick brown locks that looked slightly red in the sun. "I am Morena," she introduced before gesturing towards the two wolves.

Robb saw the woman flinch and touch her temples. She looked down at Bran. "Bran. Remember what I said when we last spoke? I need you to write a letter to your parents," she stated, handing Bran the bloodied arrow. "Smear my blood on their letters. My eyes are not as strong where they are. I cannot protect them if I cannot see them," Morena informed before looking at maester. "There will be two white owls waiting for you. Please attach Bran's letters to them. The owls will get there much quicker than any crow or hawk," she explained before walking back to Robb.

The massive black beast lowered his front body so she could sit herself on his broad back. She leaned forward and kissed Robb's forehead before he even began to wonder why she was leaning closer to him. "Soon we will have a conversation. Until then, do what you must. Rally your men. There will be a war whether I succeed or not," she warned before nudging her horse forward.

Robb opened his mouth to question her but Morena, her horse, and her two beasts disappeared.


	10. Chapter 10 - Sansa

**Sansa**

"They should have killed you instead of Lady!" Sansa cried as looked down at the growing stain on her beautiful ivory dress. Arya was so stupid. Why would she ruin Sansa's gown? Just because Arya was okay with being dirty did not mean that everyone liked their clothes to be ruined.

Septa Mordane lurched to her feet and sent both Sansa and her sister to their own chambers. She couldn't help but be surprised that the septa would punish her. Arya was the one who attacked her, not the other way around.

Tears welled in her eyes but she refused to let them spill. Queens did not cry in front of others. Sansa would get to her room and cry into the silk-covered pillows right after she took off her soiled dress.

She barred the door behind her and took off her dress. The blood orange's juice had leaked past her dress and onto her underskirt. Sobbing, she threw her dress towards the chilled hearth and ripped off the rest of her clothes. She threw herself onto her bed and let her tears roll furiously down her cheeks.

Looking into the golden eyes of her direwolf, Sansa woke at the sound of someone knocking on her door. Confused, Sansa sat up and looked around her room. Lady had just been here. They had been running and dancing… Tears welled in her eyes once more. Lady was dead. It had just been a dream.

Her Septa called to her once more and Sansa asked for a few moments to dress. She turned her face to the looking glass and saw that the skin around her tear-covered eyes was red and swollen. Straightening herself up, she attempted to make herself look as beautiful as everyone said she was.

After she was done prepping herself, Sansa was escorted by the septa to the solar where her father was resting with a leather-bound book. He closed it and looked up at her. "Come sit beside me, Sansa," her father instructed while the septa left to fetch Arya.

He said nothing until Septa Mordane returned with Arya. "Here is the other one," she announced, urging her towards their father. Her father dismissed the septa and Sansa quickly explained what had happened.

"_Enough_." Her father's voice was sharp and silenced Sansa immediately.

"I'm sorry Father. I was wrong. I beg your forgiveness, Sansa," Arya murmured, her eyes rising.

Startled, Sansa could not think of anything to say until she asked about her dress. Arya suggested that she be the one to wash it, but the silk was ruined. Her little sister offered to make her a new one, which was clearly a jest. Arya could not stitch to save her hide.

"I'm sending you back to Winterfell," her father informed, causing both daughters to plead that they stay. Arya had her stupid dancing classes, which were nothing compared to Sansa's situation. Joffrey was her betrothed and true love. She was to be queen one day! Her father couldn't send her away!

As if Arya had not just been begging for forgiveness, the two sisters fought about Joffrey and who he was. Joffrey was _not_ a stag; he was nothing like the drunk of a king. Joffrey was a lion: strong and proud.

The septa returned to escort them to their rooms and Sansa felt tears streaming down her face. Before they could leave, a white owl flew into the room and landed next to her father.

It was a beautiful bird. Nothing like the dirty ravens or bloody hawks that Maester Luwin had back at Winterfell. It cooed to her father before sticking out its leg towards him. Her father looked at the bird as if it was a snapping wolf.

"Strange," the septa commented. "Is it from Maester Luwin?" she asked.

Her father untied the string holding the parchment. "Maester Luwin does not have any owls," he muttered before unraveling the letter. A vial of something fell into her father's lap.

"Septa Mordane. Please give me a few more minutes with my daughters," he requested quietly. The septa once again turned away and left the room so the family could have some privacy.

"Who is it from?" Arya asked in an unladylike manner.

"Is it from Prince Joffrey?" Sansa questioned. He would have such a grand bird and it would be _so_ romantic if he sent her a letter.

Their father struggled to sit up and Sansa stepped forward to help him. "It is from Bran," he murmured, his eyes going back to the beginning of the letter. "He says a woman visited him and gave him this protection potion," her father informed. He folded the letter and put it away near his heart. The letter looked much longer than what he said, so there must be more to it.

However, it would be unladylike for Sansa to ask to read the letter from her younger brother.

"Protection potion?" Arya asked curiously, inching closer to their father. He lifted the vial from his lap and studied it.

It was as red as the lip paint that the queen let her try one day on the King's Road. "What do we do with it?" Sansa inquired with a soft smile. Was it like a perfume that they would dab onto their skin? Or would it taste like wine whenever they drank it?

"Let me see your hands," he instructed. Arya eagerly thrusted her hand at their father, clearly thinking this would be an adventure. Curious herself, Sansa presented her hand to her father as carefully as Lady placed her paw in Sansa;s hand whenever she learned how to introduce herself.

He placed their hands together and looked up at both of them. Her father's gray eyes looked into her blue ones. Because they were gazing at one another, Sansa did not see the silver knife that cut across both hers and Arya's palms.

"Ow!" Sansa cried before trying to jerk her hand away from her father. His one hand held both of hers and Arya's close to one another before he poured the vial over their cuts.

Sansa felt a tingling in her hands as her father wiped away the blood. Before her eyes, the cut on her palm closed, leaving no trace of it ever being there. Her father touched both of their palms in awe. "Bran said it would heal but I didn't think it was true," he wondered aloud.

"What about you?" Arya asked. Sansa looked at the vial and noticed that it was nearly empty.

He looked at the knife that he had used on them. Taking the tip of the blade, he cut his own calloused palm. Arya picked up the vial and dripped what was left onto the slice. Sansa took the sleeve of her pink dress and wiped away the blood from his hand.

"Where did Bran get the potion from, father?" Sansa asked, looking at the vital. It had silver on both the bottom and the cap. It looked like wolves dancing on a snow-covered field.

Setting the knife down on the table, he watched as the owl readied its wings and took flight. "A white woman" was all her father said.


	11. Chapter 11 - Eddard

**Eddard**

His meeting with Grand Maester Pycelle was occurring only because the man assumed that Ned still needed his treatment. Since Sansa had dripped the rest of the white woman's blood onto his palm, the pain was bearable. His leg was not completely healed, but he was able to walk for a short while without much difficulty. The old man claimed that he would visit later and Ned dismissed him.

Ned had his suspicions that the maester would go straight to the queen. The maester was like the queen's crow, bringing news that she hoped would make him quiver with fear. Well, Ned had seen a different type of bird, so he sent a reply with Pycelle that may make the queen pause.

This game that they were playing would be settled soon.

Littlefinger came next and they spoke of the king. He still had not returned, leaving Ned to run the realm. It was a job he was ready to give away. He was needed in Winterfell. Once the king returned, Ned would sit him down and inform the king of what he had learned. Then, he would return to Winterfell and rest with his family.

In a few days, Sansa and Arya would sail back home first. They would board the _Wind Witch_ and be back in Winterfell before the harvest. With them truly safe, he would be able to do what he must in King's Landing. Then, he would join them.

Last night, he dreamt of Rhaegar's queen and babes. No mercy had been shown, but Robert could be merciful. Cersei and her bastard children would not be mutilated like the dragon's mate and children.

But Ned knew better.

After all these years, Robert still hated Rhaegar. He would not forgive his queen's betrayals anymore than he could forgive Rhaegar for taking Lyanna. Coming upon a decision, Ned called for Tomard, the redheaded guardsman that his children called Fat Tom.

"Take me to the godswood," Ned commanded. He could probably get there on his own but he needed to keep up the charade that he was injured. If he walked himself to the godswood, the queen's spies would inform her and it would be revealed that Ned was not as damaged as the believed.

Tomard helped him make his way to the empty godswood. In the north, those who worshipped did so in the wood. In the south, gods were worshipped in a citadel. They lowered him to the grass beside the heart tree and he touched the brown stump. Perhaps it would call the white woman to him. "Kindly deliver this letter at once," Ned requested, handing Tomard a letter with the queen's name scrawled on the envelope.

After Tomard left, Ned looked up to see the oak's leaves dance in the wind. Even though the heart tree was not like the one in the north, he still felt the presence of his gods.

"You are taking a great risk, my lord," a voice whispered in the wind.

Ned looked to his left and saw her touching the trunk of the tree. "I must do this," he started and she nodded in understanding.

"Yes. You must," the white woman murmured, looking towards the path that him and Tomard had taken. "I will stay with you," she said before a slender white owl took her place. She fluttered to the top of the tree and hid herself behind a curtain of leaves. When Ned could no longer see her, he heard the other woman making her way to him. She was not dressed in her usual manner. Instead of a gown, she wore hunting greens and leather boots. Like the white woman, she lifted her hood away from her head and revealed her golden blonde hair that her children shared.

"Why here?" Cersei Lannister asked.

"So the gods can see," Ned answered. Interestingly enough she did not know how literal he was being. The white woman had to be some sort of god-like being.

They spoke of her brother, who was also her lover and father of the three children that Robert believed were his own. He informed her that he knew of the bastards and that he would not see them on the throne. Ned was giving her time to flee, to exile herself and her children.

"When you play the game of thrones, you win. Or you die," Cersei warned before pulling her hood up and leaving him in the godswood.

"She is right, you know," the soft voice said. His body jerked, startled at the sound of her voice. He nearly forgot that the white woman was with him in the wood. Ned looked at her and noticed that her cloak was now as dark as the night's sky. "Even the gods are not safe when they play the game of thrones," she added.

"Is that what you are? A god?" Ned asked. She smiled at him, as patient as a mother with a child.

"I am the child of gods," she answered before lowering herself to sit next to him. "So yes, I am a goddess. Bran gave you my name in his letter."

"Yes. Morena. I thought the old gods did not have names," Ned claimed. Bran may have faith in the woman, but Ned's faith in her was limited.

Her patient smile graced her face once more. "We have names. They are just not given to you," Morena informed before stiffening. Her eyes began to fill with pain. "I must go. I will be with you soon," she swore before turning into a white owl once more and disappearing.


	12. Chapter 12 - Bran

**Bran**

She had not visited him for quite some time. He liked to believe that she was with his father and sisters, keeping them safe. Still, Bran wished Morena would come back to him. The bannermen were assembling in Winterfell and Robb was leaving with them. The only one who could convince Robb to stay was the white woman.

"Please make it so Robb won't go away," he prayed softly. Perhaps she would hear his prayers. "Please make him stay," he added as he dipped his hand into the cool pool. "If he has to go, bring him home safe, with Mother and Father and my sisters. And… make Rickon understand."

Rickon was wild, as was Shaggydog. The only one who could quickly settle Shaggydog but Rickon and they all struggled to calm the baby lord. Grey Wind and Robb had to take Shaggydog on themselves just to get the green-eyed wolf chained and imprisoned in the kennels. This, of course, led to Rickon crying for his wolf during the day.

He hardly saw Robb nowadays. He had transformed completely into the Lord of Winterfell. Each ally was greeted and met by Robb in the great hall. Roose Bolton and Robett Glover both demanded the honor of battle command in different ways. Maege Mormont looked down at Robb right before offering him the hand of her granddaughter. Lord Cerwyn brought his daughter with him while Lord Hornwood brought gifts for his liege lord.

Then there was Lord Umber. He threatened Robb by saying that he would not march if his forces were placed behind the Hornwoods of the Cerwyns. Robb simply looked at him and explained that the man could do that, but they would come for him after breaking the Lannisters.

Of course, this offended the Greatjon. He called Robb green and stated that he "must piss grass." A man or two moved to restrain him, but the Greatjon was able to shove him aside. The sound of singing steel echoed throughout the Great Hall, but Robb did not yell or whimper.

Instead, he said one quiet word and Grey Wind leapt at the lord and tore two of Lord Umber's fingers away. "My lord father taught me that it was death to bare steel against your liege lord, but doubtless you only meant to cut my meat," Robb said with a warning wrapping around the words. Lord Umber laughed and became Robb's right hand, even without two fingers.

Robb came to him that night and confessed that he had been so frightened by the scene that he wasn't quite sure what to do. Then there were several rumors and news bits about what was happening to their family in King's Landing. Some said that his sisters had been killed. Others said that Rhaegar Targaryen had returned from the dead and was setting out to reclaim his father's throne.

"Help them defeat the Lannisters and save Father and bring them home," he asked the gods.

In response, he got a breeze that stirred the red leaves. "You hear them, boy?" a voice asked.

It was not Morena who spoke to him, but the wilding woman named Osha. They had spared her and she was now a servant who worked in the kitchens. She explained that Gage let her have time to pray to the old gods, who were the only ones beyond the Wall. She was readying herself to leave, as if it were offensive for her to be praying.

"No. Stay. Tell me what you meant, about hearing the gods," he demanded.

The wilding's eyes studied him. "You asked and they are answered. Open your ears," she instructed.

"It's only the wind," he said after a moment of uncertainty. Morena spoke to him; she did not send wind.

"Who do you think sends the wind, if not the gods?" Osha questioned, making Bran wonder about the gods, specifically Morena.

"I know a god," Bran said. "She speaks to me,"

Osha shook her head. "That white witch? She may be like a priestess, like the red priests your maester told me about, but she is not a god. The old gods are not seen. They don't have names."

Bran shook his head in refusal. Morena would not lie to him.


	13. Chapter 13 - Morena

**Morena **

She had ignored the summons and for that some of the gods would want her punished. If a god was summoned, then they needed to go to the godly realm. There were no exceptions. Her temples ached from the sound of her father's voice, beckoning her back to them. He did not understand her need to walk among the Starks. From what she understood, she was one of the first gods to truly walk among those she was sworn to protect.

Stepping into the realm, she looked about her. The place was split into five sections. Four of the five represented each season and allowed the gods to live among their own. Gods who reveled in summer hated those of winter, just as those in spring disliked autumn. The center and fifth section was where the highest of the gods met peacefully.

Her father, a winter wind god, could meet with the spring tree god and speak to one another without fear of being harmed.

The center was not the only place where gods met, it was where some lived. The Seven lived in the center, as did the Drowning God on occasion.

"And she shows her face," a voice gurgled. It was none other but the Drowned God in his natural form. He hated her. They should have been closer friends, but the recent battle between the Greyjoys and the Starks proved that they would not be allies for years to come.

Just as their houses fought, the Drowned and Morena had a battle of their own. In this battle, she had emerged the victor and he refused to forgive her. This led to the bitterness between their houses.

"Get off it," another voice cawed with a laugh. It was the Storm God who spoke from his raven form.

Smiling at the Storm God, she dipped her head in greeting. Even before the Greyjoys and Starks fought, she had been a great friend to the Storm God. He always joked with her, asking when they would make the sweetest and fiercest storm the world has ever seen. Of course, she rebuked his advances but it never influenced his decision to be allies with her.

"She refused her summons!" the drowned ground replied angrily and the Storm God laughed.

"You refuse your summons all the time. You just swim around in your little ocean, drowning whoever you please," the god replied. He looked in her direction. "You have been a stranger though, little wolf," the god added jokingly.

A fierce wind ruffled fur and feathers. "Leave my daughter be," her father warned.

"Father," she greeted him. Before she could speak much longer, the other high gods arrived, the Father sitting before them all. She quickly bowed before him and the rest of the high gods who moved to their spots.

"You have ignored your summons, child." The Mother spoke with her caring smile in place.

"I have not met to," she started to explain, which received a short laugh from the Drowned God. "My fellow gods. It's quite clear that this wolf has no care for our old ways –"

"Let her speak!" her father demanded, which the Storm God seconded.

Lowering her head once more, she waited for the Father's permission to speak.

"You will be quiet, Drowned God. Or you will be asked to retreat to your waters," the Father informed before saying, "Continue Morena."

Rising, she let her eyes drift to each god. "I have ignored my summons because I have had to take some precautionary steps. My house was not aware of my existence. To do as I wish, I must help them find their faith," she pleaded. The Father nodded his head before looking at the others.

"But you were instructed to remain in the shadows. Instead, you speak with the humans and give them the name that they are not permitted to know," the smith pointed out.

"I have forged a connection that is vital to the success of saving my house. If I had remained in the shadows, then they would've seen me as an enemy of sorts," Morena reasoned.

"And now your house is preparing for war," the Warrior argued.

Morena's blood began to boil. "My house was already at war without my intervention. Years ago, I lost the lord and his heir. I can do nothing for them, but I can save Eddard, his wife, and his heir," she declared.

"Are you aware of who you are waging war against?" the Crone asked, studying the wolf goddess.

Clearing her throat, Morena met the gaze of the warrior. There was a reason why the Lannisters succeeded in their wars or turned the tides. "Yes" was all she could manage to say to the crone.

"Yet you still wish to be involved?" the Warrior asked, thinking that he would scare her.

"This war will happen whether or not I want to be involved," she responded.

"There's that frigid chill! Are you sure you do not want to create a storm together?" the Storm God joked.

The high gods looked at the one of storms with expressions ranging from contempt to acceptance. He was an outrageous god; this was a critical point for her, yet he was gaming.

The Father cleared his throat and Morena focused her attention on him. He would decide what happened to her, whether or not she would be punished. "I have come upon a decision, child. You have two choices. You can remain in the godly realm and watch the events that are sure to come. Or you can remain in the human world and do what you please. There will be no back and forth, though," he ruled. "In the godly realm, you will have access to your unlimited powers. You may send owls or wolves to do you bidding, but you can have no contact with your house. In the human world, your power is limited to the faith that your house has. You will keep your affinity with the animals, but you must be with a Stark or Stark wolf at all times in order to have access to this natural power," he added and she felt the weight of his sentence.

"You will also not have the other gods at your beck and call. They must come to you," he added and the weight grew heavier.

Nodding her head in understand, she made her choice.


	14. Chapter 14 - Robb

**Robb**

"Do you know why the lion hates to wolf?" he heard a soft voice ask. Robb had stopped by Rickon's room to say good night and Old Nan informed him that Rickon had run off to bar himself in Bran's room.

In the morning, he would be leaving Winterfell in the hands of the heir. Maester Luwin swore to him that he would help Bran adjust to life as the Lord of Winterfell, but Robb still hated that he was even putting his brother in such a situation. But he needed to meet the Lannister men on the battlefield. He would not hide behind Winterfell's stonewalls.

So, tomorrow, Robb would mount his warhorse and ride off with Grey Wind at his side and the northern forces behind him. His people would probably cheer as he rode off, but his brothers would be left behind. Rickon would probably refuse to say goodbye. Bran would have to be carried out to see him off as the new lord.

"No," his brothers answered. He lifted his fist to knock on the door but it opened to reveal her.

Since the wilding ambush he hadn't seen her. On occasion he thought he saw flashes of white in the godswood or in the halls, but he never found her. Morena smiled and tipped her head in greeting. "Perhaps your big brother knows why the lion hates the wolf?" she asked.

He had his theories about why the Lannisters hated his family, but he had a feeling that was not the tale she was spinning for his young brothers. "I'm afraid I don't know, my lady," he responded, looking over her shoulder to look at his brothers. "But perhaps I could join my brothers and learn?"

Bran smiled and patted an empty spot next to him on the bed. Rickon was sitting at the foot of the bed while Summer rested against his master's legs. Grey Wind moved past him into the room and sat next to where he presumed Robb would sit. Taking it that he was welcome, Robb entered the room and noticed that Shaddydog was not chained in the kennels. Instead, he was lying down on the ground in the shadow of Bran's bed.

Smiling at the black wolf, Robb decided to let it go. No reason to upset his baby brother. Not when he was going off to war. He sat himself next to Bran and kicked off his boots before swinging them up onto the bed.

He looked up at Morena who was barring the door. Hopefully he hadn't taken her seat. She too got on the bed but sat at the foot of the bed near Robb's socked feet. Rickon eased himself closer to her and she encouraged him to rest his head in her lap.

"Once, the lion and wolf were friends. The lion's pride and the wolf's pack lived quite close to one another," she started and Robb knew she wasn't speaking of the Lannisters and Starks. The two lived nowhere near one another. "One day, the lion's mate died giving birth to a beautiful green-eyed cub. Even though he was grief-stricken, the lion raced to tell his good friend of his daughter's birth. When he arrived to the wolf's den, he discovered that the wolf's mate had also given birth a beautiful grey-eyed pup. The wolf's mate was alive and well, so the wolf was able to share the lion's joy, but not his grief.

"Their daughters were raised together. The lioness learned the power of beauty and cunning, while the she-wolf learned of honor and loyalty. While the two frolicked in a meadow, they could feel something watching them. A stranger who was not a stranger at all. The two daughters watched while their fathers greeted the dragon. Black, red, and gold scales covered his strong body and his amber eyes drifted from fathers to daughters.

"The she-wolf grew bored by staring at the male. She wished to go running through the autumn leaves, but she lioness would hear nothing of it. "I want to meet the dragon," the lioness sighed before leaving her friend's side. Angry, the wolf left the meadow without approaching the mighty dragon. She had no desire to speak with one like him. She went back to her family and watched the young pups and help the older wolves.

"When weeks passed and her friend still did not return from her days with the dragon, the she-wolf went out in the night and sung a lonely song. Because of her heartbreaking song, the skies parted and the moon bathed her in its light. She returned to her pack, heart heavy with sorrow.

"The next day, when she woke, her brown fur had turned the cleanest of whites. When her father saw this, he was astounded and told both the lion and the dragon to behold his daughter. The dragon was captivated by the she-wolf's beauty and he left the lioness' side. The lioness' green eyes brightened with hatred as she watched the dragon show such interest in her friend.

"Jealously filled the lioness and she attacked the she-wolf she once considered a friend. The she-wolf's father wanted to intercede, but the lion forbade it, claiming that the winner would be matched with the dragon because only strength can be with strength. The she-wolf had no idea that these arrangements were being made. She only fought to push the one she considered a friend away. The she-wolf tried to reason with the lioness, explaining that she did not understand what had happened or why the two friends were fighting. "You and I are not friends," the lioness hissed before raking her sharpened claws across the wolf's chest.

"The she-wolf's white fur became red and she looked into the eyes that once belonged to her friend. In them, she saw that the lioness meant to kill her all because she had grown beautiful. The she-wolf saw no way out of the argument, so she fought. It was what the lioness wanted and the wolf still wanted the lioness to be happy. The wolf only defended herself and allowed the lioness to rake her claws across her white fur.

"Until the she-wolf snapped her jaws around the neck of the lioness. She had clamped so hard that the lioness' neck broke in her jaw. Horrified, the she-wolf tried to will life back into her friend, but the one who takes it cannot give life back. The lion roared his loss. He swore vengeance on the wolf even though he was the one who allowed the fight to continue.

"The she-wolf ran away, ran back to the place in the wood where she had cried her song to the moon. She could not sing to the moon again, her soul shaken by grief. The dragon and wolf found her, both with different reactions and reasons. The dragon wanted to claim her as his since she had won the fight, but the wolf wanted to help his daughter mourn. "I shall take her with me now. She will not need to grieve," the dragon argued. The wolf open his mouth to rebuke him but the she-wolf lunged at the dragon and bit and clawed at his face, neck, and chest before falling into a white and red mess of tears.

"The dragon saw what his arrangement had done and left the wolves after receiving word from her father that one day the two would become one. Helping his daughter up, he called the pack and they helped clean her wounds. Then, they all began to sing to her as if she were the moon."

When wolves outside began to howl, Robb was snapped out of the story. He realized that Rickon was sleeping in Morena's lap while Bran was slumped against his shoulder. He looked up at Morena and saw that tears both red and clear were falling from faraway gray eyes. "Morena?" he asked softly and he saw when she realized where she was. Taking the white sleeve of her cloak, she wiped away the tears.

She cleared her thoat and focused on him. "You must sleep," she stated before lifting Rickon's head from her lap and setting it down on a pile of furs.

"Morena," Robb called, but she was already getting up and heading to Bran's window. "Wait."

She turned and looked at him. "Be careful, Robb," she warned. "Even those that you believe are friends are just enemies waiting for a reason to hate you, just as the lioness hated the she-wolf for growing beautiful. We will speak soon. I must check on your father and sisters."

And with that, the white woman was gone, leaving Robb wanting to sing for her.


	15. Chapter 15 - Eddard

**Eddard**

The cell that they put him in was dark and stank of waste. There were no windows to let light slip into the room. Even though his eyes could adjust to the darkness, there was nothing for him to make out. There wasn't a bed pushed up against the wall or a slop bucket tucked in the corner. There was nothing for him to look at. He wasn't even sure if it was night or day.

All he could think about were the people who betrayed him. Littlefinger and Janos Slynt and his gold cloaks slaughtered his men. Damn them. Damn all the rest of them too. The Kingslayer, Pycelle, Varys, Ser Barristan, and even Lord Renly. Lord Renly should not have run away when the realm needed him the most.

But above all, Eddard damned himself.

It was his entire fault. "Fool," he muttered to himself. "Thrice-damned blind fool." He had played the game of thrones and he had lost. His entire family would lose because the cunning and deceitful would always cut down those who lived with honor.

Instead of spilling tears for his family, especially his daughters who were being held hostage like him, his grief froze inside of him. He was a Stark of Winterfell and he could be as cold as ice if he needed to. Whenever, really if, he ever got out of this cell, he would turn his frozen grief onto his enemies. Let them feel his pain.

His coldness, however, could not keep his mind from straying to morbid thoughts. For one, his leg would throb anytime he moved it too much. He thought it had been getting better since Morena visited him last. But now it was like her blood was wearing off. In Bran's letter he explained that the blood would not only heal any injuries they had, but it would also connect him and his daughters to the white woman.

Maybe the thinning of her blood meant that their connection would soon be severed. There was no doubt that Cersei wanted him alive for a while, but who knew how long she would want him breathing? If Cat ever let go of her brother… Then there would be no reason to keep a traitor around.

His dreams were filled with blood and broken promises. Maybe his dreams were a side effect of losing Morena's blood. Could it be a warning that the white woman was going to break her promises?

Ned shook his head. What a ridiculous thought. The dreams were obviously a repercussion of the slaughtering that occurred in the throne room.

Once Cat got word about what had occurred, she would call in the bannermen. His father-in-law would also raise his banners for the sake of his daughters. The Vale would also rally behind her; they would be ready to avenge not only the wounded hand in the dungeons, but the one before him as well. Ned had followed in Jon Arryn's footsteps and now he was headed to the same fate.

Tilting his head back against the stone wall, he envisioned his family and prayed that he would see them all once more. He pictured what he would do next time he saw them. He would spend hours with Cat just telling her how much he loved her and how there had never been anyone else that made him feel the way she did. He would help Robb become the Lord of Winterfell; even though he knew deceit seemed to win the game of thrones, Robb would know the old way. Sansa would be partnered with a good lord, one that Ned knew he could trust. He'd let Arya have all the swords she wanted; a maiden's life was not what she wanted, so Ned could try and support her.

He would sit with Bran and tell him any story he wanted to hear. Ned would even hoist his son on his back and take him anywhere his son wanted to go. Little Rickon would learn from his father; Ned would be there for him. And Jon… He would tell Jon everything the boy wanted to know about his mother.

Nearly smiling, Ned drifted off to sleep only to be awoken by the turnkey bringing him water. Ned begged for information about his daughters but only received an answering kick.

Every time the turnkey came, Ned assumed another day had passed. He asked for any sort of news. He asked for food. Anytime he opened his mouth, though, the turnkey had some sort of grunt or kick ready for him.

When the door creaked open, Ned pushed himself toward the light. "Food," he croaked and received a wineskin instead. The voice was familiar, yet Ned could not place it right away. Then it came to the forefront of his groggy mind. "Vayrs?" he asked.

The plump eunuch looked nothing like himself. Ned could not help but wonder what type of magic the eunuch possessed. How could a man shift his appearance like Varys had?

"Drink, my lord," Varys requested. When Ned doubted the state of the wine, the eunuch took a swig and handed it back to Ned.

They spoke of his daughters. Arya had escaped, no doubt thanks to her dancing lessons. The queen, however, was holding Sansa, closely. The same queen who would probably sentence Ned to die, like Varys said, because of the events that had occurred since Cat took the Imp.

When Ned learned that it was Robb who was leading the bannermen and not Cat, he could not help but be stunned. Robb was just a boy. How could he lead a northern army? Then again, Robb was the Lord of Winterfell…

With Robb gone and Cat gods know where, who was taking care of Winterfell? Bran? So much weight to be put on the shoulders of a boy who, not only had little teaching about the situation, was crippled. No doubt an enemy would see this as a prime time to go after his home.

"Why is it always the innocents who suffer most, when you high lords play your game of thrones?

"The next visitor who calls on you could bring you bread, cheese, and milk of the poppy. Or he could bring you Sansa's head.

"The choice, my dear lord Hand, is entirely yours."

All three chilling statements left Ned wishing that Varys had never come to see him. The thought of Sansa suffering because of him… Like how Robert suffered…

He could not have her hurt. He would have to tell the queen he would confess. He would have to declare Joffrey as the true heir. He would have to go against everything he believed to keep his daughter safe.

He was going to do it.

"We must do what we must," a female's voice whispered.

Since no one had entered through the door, Ned was startled but quickly recognized Morena's voice. He searched for her and discovered her sitting next to him.

"My lady… Your robe," he started, ashamed that she was seeing him in such a soiled state.

She moved to crouch before him. Those piercing gray eyes seemed to search his eyes for something. What, he wasn't sure.

"You will do as the spider suggested, correct?" she asked, her eyes seeming to swim with knowledge and grief.

He nodded his head, which caused her to look away. "Very well. You will need your strength," she informed before pulling a few things out from a pocket in her robe. "Honeyed water, bread, cheese, fish, and some fruit. Eat and drink slowly," she commanded, handing him pieces of each.

For a few moments, there was just silence. It wasn't the deafening silence that he had been living with for the past few days or weeks. It was almost a comfortable silence. "Is what Varys said true?" he asked, slowly eating what she handed him. When his stomach coiled, he paused but it settled quickly.

"Yes," she answered without much explanation. When he was about to push the subject, she hushed him. "Just focus on feeling better. I have a great favor to ask of you and I need you to understand what I'm asking. To do that, your mind needs to be clear."

Not wanting to anger her or cause her to leave, he grew quiet and did as she asked. Cat would probably be astounded that he would willingly agree to the woman's request. Especially with his family's livelihood at stake.

When his stomach felt full and his mind clear, he questioned her about her favor. Her eyes met his and she clasped his hand. "I need your faith."

Confused by her words, he tried to think of how to give her what she asked. "My faith?" he asked.

Nodding, she looked up. "My power to help your family rides on faith. In order for me to do something, I need faith. If I am to save you, I need you to have faith in my ability to do so," she explained.

He wanted to question her but he could hear someone approaching his cell. Either the turnkey or the queen. Ned felt a surge of something inside of him and Morena squeezed his hands.

"Believe in me, Ned."

Author's Note:

Sorry for the delay! I have been a bit busy with family concerns and school. The story is starting to get closer to the end of the first book, so I hope you all like where I am going to be taking it! Thank you for the favorites, follows, and reviews! I am so happy that a few people are really liking my story. I hope I don't let you down!


End file.
